The
naughtiest dog in Nottingham is making amazing progress in his training. It’s
now possible to let him off the lead – with some trepidation, I admit, but it’s
possible. You have to make sure that there are no other dogs in sight, because if
he finds another dog you just can’t make him come back. He’s completely
convinced that all other dogs are as desperate to be friends with him as he is
with them, and he isn’t very good at taking the hint if they growl or otherwise
appear unfriendly. Also, he hasn’t a tail. This has two disadvantages; first,
strangers are likely to upbraid us, for having had it docked, and aren’t always
convinced with the explanation that he never had one; and second, he doesn’t
send quite the right signals to other dogs. With Atlas, it’s all in his ears,
which go up, down, swivel, tremble – we understand him, but other dogs don’t.
It is
actually a pleasure to see him run free – you would not believe that a short
chunky little dog could run so fast. His greatest joy is chasing pigeons,
crows, and squirrels, none of which he has the slightest hope of catching. The
crows and squirrels seem to tease him, too, by going just a little way up a
tree, or alighting just a few yards further on. So he gets much better exercise
off the lead, and it isn’t worrying for me, because every few minutes he stops
and looks round for me. I don’t think his eyesight is great, because when he
looks around, it’s not sufficient to shout his name; I have to wave both arms
wildly for him to locate me. When he’s reassured that he hasn’t lost me, off he
goes again.
After a
really good run, he comes back without any bother and flops down to be put back
on the lead. If waving madly while shouting “Atlas!” is embarrassing, the next
bit is really embarrassing. He lies on his back with his legs in the air and waits
to be dragged along on the grass by his harness. This tends to bother other
people almost as much as the lack of a tail. I suppose it does look cruel.
After a bit he leaps up, grinning all over his face. One of the really charming
things about bull terriers and their off shoots is their ability to grin,
although they aren’t what anyone could call beautiful, or even handsome.
He also
behaves like a small child, in that, if he sees a grassy bank, he joyfully
rolls over and over down it, and this is even more embarrassing than the arm
waving or dragging him by the harness. Other people inevitably assume it’s an
accident and he has hurt himself.
So walking
him is likely to be a bit embarrassing, but a lot of fun. I would prefer him not
to try to eat anything on the pavement that doesn’t walk away from him. Walks are likely to be punctuated with cries
of “No! That’s disgusting!” and occasional pauses to force something horrible
out of his mouth. He doesn’t cooperate, but he doesn’t resist too much either. He
has managed to gulp down some revolting stuff, but I did find his attempts to
eat a young horse chestnut seed quite funny. If he’s daft enough to try to eat
something as spiky as that, I’m not going to interfere, and after giving
himself a sore tongue, he gave up and has learned his lesson.
So last
Saturday, I took Atlas along one of Nottingham’s green promenades, Waterloo
Promenade, to the Forest, through the Arboretum, and back through the General
Cemetery. I couldn’t let him off the lead, because it was a lovely day, and
there were loads of dogs and people picnicking. Dogs, and food at ground level!
I would never be able to recapture him. But there was no one around in the
cemetery, so I let him off. All went well, until I spotted, through the tall
grass, his four paws waving in the air. He was rolling on a dead rat.
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